


Between Snow and Fire

by wave_of_sorrow



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wave_of_sorrow/pseuds/wave_of_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hannibal and Face get stuck in a hut in the Swiss mountainside, Face dislikes small spaces and sex is had in front of fireplaces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Snow and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this for lambofcurl101th as part of the A-Team Secret Santa fic exhange on livejournal.

“Motherfucking piece of _shit_.”

The last is punctuated by a fist slamming into the door and Face hissing in pain, and Hannibal sighs and finally looks up from his book as Face prepares to launch himself shoulder-first into the offending piece of wood.

“Face, calm down. Dislocating your shoulder is going to help even less than your efforts to break your own hand.”

Face doesn’t listen, though – when does he ever listen? – and there’s a considerable bang as he slams himself into the door.

“Mother _fuck_.”

Hannibal pinches the bridge of his nose as Face clutches his shoulder and rattles off a litany of increasingly imaginative curse words in at least three different languages.

“Face,” he sighs, knuckles rubbing between his eyebrows in a well-practised and completely pointless attempt to stave off a building headache. “Calm down and stop hurling yourself against the door. You know perfectly well that it won’t give.”

“You calm down,” Face shouts, abandoning probing at his injured hand with his tongue in favour of flailing his arms at Hannibal. “You calm the fuck down, Hannibal!”

“I am calm,” Hannibal says, keeping his voice deliberately low like he’s talking to a frightened animal, or a three year old throwing a temper tantrum.

It does exactly what it always does: it makes Face completely lose his shit.

The book is yanked out of Hannibal’s hands and thrown in the general direction of the opposite wall where it lands with an unsatisfying thud. “We’re going to Switzerland, you said! Piece of cake, you said! What could possibly happen, you said! Well, let me tell you what happened,” Face’s hands describe a spectacular arc in the air and Hannibal’s eyes follow it with mild interest. “We got trapped in a hut by a fucking avalanche!”

None of this, of course, is news to Hannibal; he knows perfectly well what happened and how. It was his plan after all, and, really, he hadn’t thought anything _could_ go wrong beyond maybe a slight hitch of timing and the usual minor injuries that came with this kind of mission. Nothing could have prepared him for the complete and utter cluster-fuck it turned out to be once they’d arrived in the Swiss mountainside and realized that there was no way Murdock would be able to navigate a chopper in these conditions.

And yeah, okay, it was him that proposed to continue on foot to their mark’s supposed hideout. But Face was the one to find and scam them this little hut in the middle of fucking nowhere to use as a base, and Hannibal thinks that makes him at least thirty percent responsible for their current predicament.

And yes, the original plan of action is completely out of the question now and they’re going to have to come up with something new once they’re out of here and certain that they haven’t been discovered by anyone other than their own team. But at least Murdock and BA knew where they were headed. It shouldn’t be too difficult for the two of them to find Hannibal and Face and get them out once the weather’s cleared. 

Hannibal knows this. Hannibal knows that _Face_ knows this, but Face is breathing hard, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring in what anybody else might interpret as barely contained rage. Hannibal has a sneaking suspicion that’s not what it is. And while Hannibal abandoned trying to open the door or any of the windows nearly an hour ago and got comfortable with a book instead, Face is still in his full equipment, melted snow forming puddles around his boots.

“Kid,” Hannibal says and gets up from the couch to lay his hands on Face’s shoulders, “I need you to calm down.”

“I _am_ calm,” Face grits out from between clenched teeth and shrugs Hannibal off.

He watches Face pace the length of the, admittedly small, room for a few moments before patting his pockets to retrieve a cigar and matches. “What’s got you so bothered anyway?” he says around his cigar. “We’ve been in tighter spots than this.”

“Oh, really?” Face stops his pacing to get into Hannibal’s personal space and poke him in the chest. “Really? Because I don’t fucking remember being in a tighter spot than this.”

He gestures around the small living area of the cottage in a way that indicates that by _this_ he means so much more than the tiny room and Hannibal has to lean back to avoid getting punched in the face.

He strikes a match and smirks around the unlit cigar, “No? Well, I sure do, sweetheart.” He winks and Face flashes him a look of complete and utter fury.

The cigar is plucked from his mouth before he can light it and tossed on the wooden floor, and Face hisses, “This isn’t funny!”

Hannibal raises an eyebrow at him and slowly shakes out the match, and Face crosses his arms and glares at him in a huffy, defiant kind of way that makes Hannibal want to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheek. Something tells him that if he values his testicles he probably should not give in to that particular urge.

“You might want to pick that up, honey,” Hannibal says, and the slight edge to his voice is enough to send a shiver through Face, though he does his best to hide it.

“Or what?” Face asks, stubbornly raising his chin.

“Just pick it up, Face,” he growls with a close-mouthed smile and, after a brief stare contest, Face lowers his eyes and backs down and scrambles to pick up the cigar.

He pokes it back into Hannibal’s breast pocket and mumbles an apology, and he sighs a little when Hannibal strokes his knuckles over his stubbly cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer so that their bodies are almost touching. “I know you hate snow, but there’s no snow in here. And I know you hate the cold, but something tells me you aren’t cold. Quite the opposite in fact.”

Face’s eyes flutter shut as his sweat-slicked throat is traced and his head falls back into a big palm. “I’m not cold,” he whispers, even as the zipper of his thick jacket is being pulled down.

“No, you’re not,” Hannibal agrees softly as he’s assaulted by the heat of Face’s body, and trails kisses up the side of his neck to one ear, marvelling at the way the kid goes limp in his arms. “Now, will you tell me what the real problem here is?”

“I don’t like small spaces,” Face mumbles, eyes scrunching shut more tightly, and he’s surprised how easily the words come when he can’t see Hannibal. It’s child’s logic: if he can’t see the amusement on Hannibal’s face, then maybe Hannibal can’t see the embarrassment on his.

The admission doesn’t surprise Hannibal, not really, because Face has always had more trouble dealing with being trapped, or restricted in any way, than the rest of the team. He usually hides it behind a bleach-bright smile and carefully careless jokes, cocksure and reckless, because that’s how Face deals with everything he can’t deal with: laughs and smiles and nothing genuine.

The fact that Face has just offered Hannibal that little nugget of truth, however small, with minimal coaxing speaks volumes about how far they’ve come; the way he unconsciously turns his head away from Hannibal about how far they still have to go.

He knows Face doesn’t expect the kiss; it’s a soft brushing of lips, all warmth and shared air and noses bumping, and when Face presses closer and hides against Hannibal’s neck, Hannibal lets him. He manoeuvres Face out of his jacket and rubs between his shoulder blades as he waits for his breathing to even out. When it doesn’t he shifts them until he can look Face in the eye and lays a hand over his diaphragm.

“Face, look at me,” Hannibal says, and Face blinks at him a few times, eyes wide. “We’re going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Face grinds out, his hands unconsciously tightening on Hannibal’s biceps.

“Yes, I do,” he says, rubbing slow circles over Face’s tense stomach. “That’s, what, six feet of snow out there? We’re not even completely buried. Besides, Murdock and BA knew we were on our way here. They’ll get us out by morning.”

Face still looks unconvinced, but Hannibal can see how hard he’s trying to calm down, and all it does is make his breathing speed up even more.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against Face’s, hand still rubbing in careful circles. “Just breathe with me, kid.”

It doesn’t take long for Face to focus on Hannibal’s breathing pattern; it takes him a little longer to calm down enough to be able to replicate it, but eventually they’re left breathing in perfect sync, still holding on to each other.

“Thanks, boss,” Face whispers, and breaks away with an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“Anytime,” Hannibal says and pulls Face right back against him, peppering small kisses along his jaw.

Face squirms happily in Hannibal’s arms, tilting his head for better access to his throat, and his own arms wrap around Hannibal, mapping out the planes and angles of his broad back through a decidedly ugly fleece sweater. Face has somehow always associated fleece with elderly people and the thought of Hannibal with a heatable blanket makes him snort a little with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Hannibal asks and bites sharply at the soft spot beneath Face’s chin.

“ _Oh._ Nothing,” Face gasps, arching into the sting and burn of Hannibal’s teeth. “Just… wearing a fleece sweater makes you look adorably old.”

He’s rewarded with another bite to his throat and a little growl, and Hannibal speaks against his skin, “Unless I’m much mistaken you’re currently wearing a fleece sweater yourself.”

“Yeah, but I look good in anything,” Face laughs, and Hannibal’s sure he would puff out his chest if he could. “But it’s okay, old man. Your circulation isn’t what it used to be anymore, no shame in that.”

Hannibal has him pushed back against the wall before the smirk has even fully formed on Face’s lips, and Face struggles half-heartedly just to have Hannibal press closer, hold him tighter.

“I promise you my circulation is just fine, kid,” Hannibal says, voice hardly more than a rough growl, and he grinds his hips into Face’s to emphasize his point.

Face’s mouth falls open a little and he can’t help arching up into all that delicious heat to rub his own trapped erection against Hannibal’s through all their clothing; the friction isn’t nearly enough and he makes a soft, needy little sound in the back of his throat.

Hannibal chuckles, low and dirty, and briefly pushes his tongue into Face’s open mouth before he says, “Now, if you’re done throwing hissy fits and hurling yourself against doors, maybe we can find something a little more _fun_ to do while we wait to be rescued.”

“Hey! I do _not_ throw hissy fits,” Face complains, poking Hannibal in the chest again and glaring in that way he has when he’s going to launch into a defence of his manliness, so Hannibal quickly silences any other protests with a deep kiss.

He’s pretty sure the garbled noise Face makes around his tongue was an attempt at speech, but instead of stopping he just grabs Face’s head and kisses him harder until the kid is moaning and rubbing tongues with him.

“Face,” he murmurs, and nips at Face’s bottom lip, “we’re going to be stuck here for at least ten more hours, so why don’t you stop complaining and go find some blankets while I get the fire going?”

The only thing that keeps Face from protesting again is the slow grind of the heel of Hannibal’s hand into Face’s crotch, of that Hannibal is certain.

“Hannibal Smith,” Face grins, even as he spreads his legs and thrusts up into Hannibal’s hand, “are you planning to fuck me in front of the fireplace?”

“Damn right I am,” Hannibal growls and laughs at the unhappy whine that escapes Face when the hand stops rubbing him and then moves away entirely to cup his cheek. “If you’re good I’ll even light some candles for you, darling.”

Face laughs and turns his head to kiss Hannibal’s wrist, and Hannibal is relieved to see all that panic from earlier replaced by mischief and happiness crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re a hopeless romantic, boss,” Face says, but he’s smiling and there’s only a tiny bit of teasing in his voice.

“And you love it, brat,” Hannibal murmurs and leans in to kiss the tip of Face’s nose. “Now go find those blankets, because you’re not going to be wearing anything for as long as we’re here.”

Face’s grin widens and he says, “You sure about that, Colonel? Because personally I think I look quite fetching in this fleece. And besides, we wouldn’t want you to get cold, would we?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep me warm,” Hannibal says, and his smile is half fondness and half exasperation. “Now _go_.”

Face steals a few more kisses, and Hannibal lets him, and he has to laugh at the way Face makes sure to rub his entire body against Hannibal’s as he disentangles himself and pushes away from the wall.

“Templeton Peck, you are a complete slut,” Hannibal says with a grin as he watches Face go.

“Only for you,” Face throws over his shoulder with a wink that clashes horribly with the sincerity with which he says it.

Hannibal doesn’t have time to react before he’s disappeared around the corner to retrieve the blankets for which Hannibal sent him, and so he settles on getting a fire going in the hearth.

\--

They’ve eaten a bit of the provisions they brought, sitting close to each other on the hardwood floor and completely ignoring the table that could have seated all four of them, and now Face is fussing with the blankets, trying to determine how close to the fire to put them.

Hannibal suppresses a smile, certain that Face wouldn’t take too kindly to being called adorable, and retrieves a small, smouldering piece of coal from the fireplace to light his cigar with. He looks up at the sound of Face’s startled laugh to find the kid looking at him with a hand over his mouth, shaking with silent laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he asks around his cigar, and somehow that makes Face laugh again.

“Oh god, you should see yourself right now,” he chuckles, grabbing a few pillows and tossing them on the makeshift pallet. “Lighting a cigar with burning coal with the fucking pincers.”

Hannibal grins at him and breathes out a cloud of fragrant smoke, “Just saving matches for when we really need ‘em, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, just try not to burn the whole fucking place down, alright?”

“I’ll do my best,” Hannibal says, holding out a hand for Face to take and pulling him closer. “We really need to do something about that filthy mouth of yours; that’s really no way to speak for a lady.”

“Fuck you, you dirty old man,” Face says with a breathless grin, voice low and teasing, hands looping around Hannibal’s waist.

Hannibal makes a noncommittal noise around his cigar and traces the curve of Face’s smile with a thumb. “Such a gorgeous mouth,” he murmurs, calluses catching a little on Face’s teeth.

The grin vanishes as Face catches the finger between his teeth, tongue-tip tracing intricate patterns on the pad that make Hannibal’s toes curl. The corner of Face’s mouth twitches upward a little as he focuses those startlingly blue eyes of his on Hannibal, tongue twisting around his thumb so that Hannibal can see it.

“Ah, _Jesus_ ,” Hannibal mutters as Face closes his mouth and sucks on his thumb, humming a little around it. “Am I not supposed to be the one with the oral fixation?” He gestures with the cigar.

“You are,” Face says and releases Hannibal’s wet finger with a soft pop. “But I know how much you love seeing me do that.”

“I love seeing you suck my thumb?” Hannibal asks, tracing Face’s shining lips.

“You love seeing my suck _anything_ , boss,” Face says, bumping his hips forward into Hannibal’s to make his point.

“Aren’t you eager?” Hannibal growls even as he hauls Face in for a kiss, pressing himself flush against the kid. It’s a ridiculous thing to say, really; he knows they were both at least half-hard all through their meal.

Face makes a vague noise into his mouth, tugging him into the direction of the blankets. “You,” Face says, pulling his own shirt over his head, “are wearing way too many clothes.”

“Am I now?” he says, almost to himself, and has to laugh at Face’s vigorous nod. He takes one last, long drag on his cigar and tosses the rest of it into the fire.

They undress quickly and efficiently, leaving their clothes in neatly folded piles out of sheer habit, and the heavy scent of burning tobacco leaves fills the room. Face flops down on the blankets, stretching in a distinctly feline way, and Hannibal takes a moment to take him in: hair shining golden in the flickering firelight and warm shadows curving across his body.

Face, as ever well aware of the effect he has on Hannibal, sighs and arches his head back, exposing his throat in a way that makes him look submissive and vulnerable, and Hannibal knows it isn’t nearly as much of an act as Face would have him believe.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Face?” he murmurs and, as predicted, Face makes a happy sound and his hands contract around fistfuls of blanket like a cat pumping its claws. Face is hard, cock stiff and heavy against his abdomen, and Hannibal can’t resist reaching down to stroke his own cock to full hardness as he watches his eager boy writhe without subtlety.

“Hannibal,” Face whines when he remains alone and untouched and Hannibal has half a mind to make him wait for it, but it’s been too long since they could be naked together and didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing or interrupting.

Lying down next to Face, not quite touching, Hannibal traces a line from throat to pubic bone over his warm skin, raising goose bumps. Face shifts, impatient as ever, and they spend a long time kissing, slick and deep and toe-curling, until they’re both panting and Face hooks a leg over Hannibal’s hip so their erections slide together.

“C’mon,” Face whispers in between increasingly messy kisses, “Oh God, _please_.”

“Please what?” Hannibal asks, rolling on top and grinding down against Face. “What do you want, kid?”

“Fuck me,” Face moans, shuddering as fingernails lightly rake down his chest and catch on a nipple. “Please, boss. Need it so bad.”

Hannibal groans as those words go straight to his cock and he has to stop rutting against Face, or else this might come to a premature end. He raises an eyebrow at the sachet of lube that’s retrieved from under a pillow and gets a lewd grin and a wink in response, and under all that there’s the faintest bit of a blush and he can’t not kiss Face again for that alone. For all his bravado the kid still gets embarrassed about these things, and that’s just one of the qualities Hannibal hopes Face will never lose.

Face wedges a pillow under his hips and squirms around to get comfortable as Hannibal opens up the packet of lube and slicks himself up. He cups and rolls Face’s balls in a slick palm, fingers moving further back to rub against the puckered opening, and they both groan as the first finger slides in, aided by Face’s wanton tilt of the hips.

“I’m ready,” Face gasps, moving against Hannibal’s gyrating finger to get it to rub against his prostate. “Oh god, I’m so fucking ready.”

“You’re nowhere near ready, baby,” Hannibal growls, mouthing at the underside of Face’s twitching erection.

“I am, I am, I am,” Face chants like it’s some kind of mantra, eyes screwing shut as Hannibal thrust in a second finger and crooks them just so. “Oh _fuck_ , that’s it, right there.”

Hannibal takes his time massaging Face’s prostate, rubbing gently until Face is gasping and moaning, and he sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, tonguing the slit until he can taste Face’s pre-come in quick, excited bursts.

“Oh shit,” Face groans, hands grabbing fistfuls of blanket, arching helplessly, “I’m gonna come, Hannibal.”

Hannibal redoubles his efforts, but before he can so much as slide more of Face’s cock into his mouth the kid twists a hand into his hair and actually pulls him off.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop,” Face whispers, spit-slick erection twitching against his belly, and for a moment Hannibal seriously doubts the kid will be able to hold back. Face does hold back, though, and slowly he relaxes again, taking large gulps of air and letting go of Hannibal’s hair. “Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, “I just don’t want to come when you’re not in me.”

Hannibal would laugh at the statement and kiss Face for being so hopeless, but he’s painfully hard and all he really wants is to feel Face clenched around him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he growls and Face shivers and moans.

Without further ado he pulls his fingers out, lines up and thrusts his cock into Face. It’s always a bit of a struggle at first, like Face never really gets used to taking Hannibal’s cock, and he has to push a few times before he’s fully inside. When he is he takes a moment to kiss Face and let him adjust; the kid always insists he’s ready, but Hannibal knows it’s usually a bit uncomfortable at first.

“Okay?” Hannibal murmurs, nipping at Face’s jaw.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Face breathes, nudging his hips against Hannibal’s in a way that makes them both sigh with pleasure.

It starts out slow and gentle, but try as they might it spirals out of control within minutes and Hannibal leans back and kneels up for better leverage and quickens his pace. The change in position tilts Face’s hips just right, so that Hannibal rubs against his prostate on every other thrust.

“Shit, I’m so close,” Face whines, and Hannibal wraps a hand around his slick cock.

“You know how much I love seeing you come,” Hannibal groans, stroking Face’s erection and doing that little twisting motion on the down-stroke that Face likes so much. “Come on, Face. Just do it.”

And Face does, letting loose a relieved howl as his entire body arches and shudders as he comes over Hannibal’s hand and his own chest. It’s a sight to behold and Hannibal doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving to watch until Face’s eyes blink open and a sated smile spreads across his face.

“Mmm,” he tilts up a little and squeezes his internal muscles around Hannibal’s cock and it gets him a growl and a tight grip on his hips in response.

Hannibal would argue that it’s too soon, that they can wait until Face has recovered a bit more, but he knows damn well how much Face likes being fucked right after he’s come. And so he starts moving again, the high-pitched sounds that escape Face’s throat with every jerk of his hips going straight to his cock.

“Oh shit,” Face whines, pained expression taking over his features, but he digs his heels into the backs of Hannibal’s thighs. “Oh _fuck_ , keep going, boss.”

Hannibal looks down to find Face’s cock still slick and limp, but the flutter of Face’s walls around his own cock is enough to distract him rather thoroughly. He can feel his orgasm building, tingling heat at the base of his spine, and he pumps his hips harder.

“Oh, oh, fuck,” Face keens, legs jerking and body convulsing, mouth open in an utterly silent scream.

Hannibal takes a second to wonder what the fuck just happened before he comes with a loud groan that he tries and fails to stifle out of habit.

When the ringing in his ears has subsided and his vision come back into focus he rolls off Face and they lie side by side, panting harshly, for a long moment.

“Did you just…?” Hannibal asks eventually, voice hoarse.

“Yeah, no, I think so, I don’t know,” Face says, frowning a little before he starts laughing and curls up in Hannibal’s arms. “Honestly, I don’t care what the fuck that was so long as we do it again and often.”

Hannibal laughs with him and presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “Anything, kid,” he says, but Face is already asleep.

\--

When Face wakes up it is with Hannibal spooned around his back and the fire crackling merrily and the moment he starts to stretch a bit in Hannibal’s arms lips trail down his neck to his shoulder.

“Sleep well?” Hannibal asks, and his voice is low and sleep-rough.

“Mmm,” Face arches his neck to offer maximum expanse for Hannibal to place kisses on, and he sighs happily when Hannibal indulges him. “Heavenly. Any idea what time it is?”

“Nowhere near sunrise,” is all Hannibal murmurs into his ear, and Face doesn’t press; he’s more than happy to stay right here in Hannibal’s arms, warm and cherished and more at peace than either of them have felt in a long time.

They’re silent for so long that Face would assume Hannibal has gone back to sleep if it weren’t for the lack of snoring. The feeling of being trapped and the panic that came with it have all but disappeared and Face almost wishes they could stay here forever, curled up together in a cocoon of blankets with the snow blocking out the rest of the world, like it’s just the two of them. For a moment he allows himself to imagine what that might be like; no Army and no responsibility and nothing to do except be together.

It’s a selfish, destructive kind of thought, and Face knows that. He’s not nearly naïve enough to think they could be happy like that, with only each other. They might enjoy it for a while, but they’d get restless eventually; they both need the danger, and the adrenaline highs that come with it, though perhaps for different reasons.

“What are you thinking about?” Hannibal asks, and it’s very quiet like he’s afraid that he’s going to be the one to burst their little bubble.

“You. Us.” It’s not a lie, but it’s the most truth Face is willing to divulge, and he’s grateful that Hannibal just hums a little in response and kisses the spot behind his ear.

Hannibal presses impossibly closer and their legs tangle together in a way perfected by countless nights spent soaking up each other’s presence knowing they’d have to sneak back to their respective sleeping quarters long before the sun’s up. The paracord bracelet on Hannibal’s right wrist rubs against Face’s chest and Face tugs at it a little, a wistful kind of smile playing across his lips.

“Everything okay, kid?” Hannibal murmurs, arms tightening around Face, and Face almost has to laugh at just how in tune his colonel is with his lieutenant.

“Yeah,” Face sighs, suddenly glad that Hannibal can’t see him, “everything’s fine.”

Hannibal is quiet for a while, and then he shifts them so Face is on his back and he’s propped up on one elbow, eyes more inscrutable than ever. “I’m not good at this, Face,” he admits, and Face has a sudden, powerful moment of panic.

Hannibal seems to sense this and he cards a hand through Face’s hair, fingers rubbing at his scalp, and Face can’t help arching into that with a little happy sound. They stay like that for a while, with Hannibal cradling Face’s head, just looking at each other. Face can’t put his finger on it, but something in Hannibal’s expression makes all the panic and worry just melt away.

“I love you,” Hannibal says eventually, and his tone of voice is something Face hasn’t heard before, “and if I could, I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

Face wants to say something, but his throat tightens painfully and only a desperate little sound comes out.

“Did you really think I didn’t know what this meant?” Hannibal asks gently, nodding at the paracord bracelet. “I’d give you one too as a reminder that I’m yours, but I’d much rather do the reminding myself.”

Face blinks against the sudden stinging sensation in his nose, and he’s eternally grateful that Hannibal just leans down to kiss him through it.

“I might need multiple reminders a day, you know,” Face whispers with a mischievous smile when they break apart, and Hannibal’s chuckle tastes like smoke and salt.

“And I’ll be more than happy to provide them, brat,” he murmurs fondly, rolling fully on top of Face, and the smile they share makes something warm settle in Face’s stomach that has nothing to do with Hannibal’s hot skin sliding against his or the blazing fire.

Outside the weather is beginning to calm down, unheeded by the two of them, and as Hannibal does his best to kiss him senseless, Face thinks that maybe getting trapped in the snow wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
